


Kilig

by an_aphorism



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Intimacy, Kissing, M/M, New Relationship, Non-Sexual Intimacy, softe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:13:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27163009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/an_aphorism/pseuds/an_aphorism
Summary: Keith’s been kissed before, many times before, and frankly he’s never understood what the fuss was about.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 301





	Kilig

**Author's Note:**

> _Kilig (tagalog) - causing or characterized by a feeling of exhilaration or elation of love._

Keith’s been kissed before, many times before, and frankly he’s never understood what the fuss was about. It’s always too rough, or to sloppy, or from someone he just would rather not be swapping spit with. He likes the idea in theory, it sounds nice when he reads about it, he likes seeing it in the movies. It always looks so romantic, so intimate. It looks like it _feels_ good _._

It just isn’t like that in real life for him. Never has been. No matter how much Keith has wanted it to be, he’s never kissed someone and gone _wow_. No fireworks or electricity. Nothing but the hyper awareness of displeasing scent and taste and wetness that always makes him want to pull away.

So maybe that’s why when it comes to Shiro, when it comes to the fact that in short order he will be kissing Shiro for the first time, Keith has a bit of a crisis.

Because he wants to kiss Shiro. Wants it with every fiber of his being. And at the same time dreads that it will be like every other mediocre-to-disgusting lip lock he’s ever experienced. He fears that Shiro will kiss him and that thing inside him will go _ugh_.

And then what? Does he tell Shiro he hates kissing?

It hurts to think about. Hurts to imagine Shiro’s expression upon hearing this strange thing about Keith. Everyone else seems to enjoy this activity, and Keith doesn’t _want_ to hate it, he doesn’t—!

But there’s at least fair odds that Shiro will kiss him and it will be just like all the rest. He has to consider that as a possibility-to-potential reality.

He agonizes over what to do for days leading up to their date, but doesn’t come up with any ideas. There really isn’t anything he can do. He can’t make himself different, he’s tried. He’s tried to let people kiss him and hope that it would get better. It never did.

In the end, it’s as Shiro is walking him back to his apartment where there should be kissing happening that Keith does the only thing left to him.

He blurts out every thought that he’s ever had about kissing in a jumbled, nervous mess. Most of it doesn’t even make sense, half cut off sentences, rambling fears. He cringes to hear himself say it, but can’t stopper the words until he’s completely outted himself.

Shiro’s the one that stops him just before his door, looking wide-eyed at Keith’s confession. Every fiber of Keith’s body wants to just bolt and forget this ever happened.

But then Shiro’s hand is reaching for his, fingers twining between Keith’s.

“Why don’t we figure this out together then?” Shiro says with a too-kind smile. “Is that okay?”

Keith’s heart is pounding, but he manages a nod.

“Should I come in?”

It’s not a request, but a genuine question, and Keith loves him all the more for it. Even at this, at the most embarrassing Keith’s ever been, Shiro is just as considerate and kind as always.

Keith takes a deep breath and reaches to put his hand on the door scanner.

“Yeah. Okay.”

They end up on the couch, lights low and cozy. Shiro takes his seat a respectful distance away, but turns his attention to Keith.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I think I’ve said it all,” Keith says. His cheeks feel hot from the embarrassment or anticipation. He hates it.

“Still. Could I say something then?”

Keith shrugs. Shiro turns his hand palm up in offering, and Keith immediately moves closer to clasp it.

“No matter what, no matter how you are, I’m good with it. I want whatever you want, and if kissing is not something you enjoy, then we won’t do it.”

Keith sighs. It’s a lovely answer, but—

“I know, but it’s… important.”

Shiro is looking at him carefully. “Important how?”

“It’s just… you know in movies and stuff. It’s a big deal to kiss the person you love.”

“Sure. But is it important to you, personally?”

Keith opens his mouth to answer, but then stops. He gives it a moment more of thought. He can hear Shiro trying to understand, and he wants to give that the care it deserves.

“It wasn’t. Before. With other people it didn’t really matter. But with you… I want to like it.”

Shiro nods. “Okay. That’s good. But I just want to say that no matter what happens or doesn’t happen, I’m fine with it. I love you and we’re together. That’s the only thing that matters to me.”

He squeezes Keith’s hand and Keith squeezes in return.

“Is it something you want to try tonight? We can also wait.”

Keith meets his eyes and then looks away. He wants and he dreads at the same time.

Still, he’s never been a coward. He trusts that Shiro means what he says, that it truly won’t change anything for him with Keith. It’s really only Keith’s own disappointment he will have to handle. The realization truly that if this doesn’t work with Shiro, it won’t work with anyone. It will be a thing that puts him apart, a thing he wants but can never enjoy.

And that’s _fine_. It is. It will be.

Keith’s lived twenty years already being so much different from the people around him, this will just be another thing.

“I want to,” he says eventually. He scoots closer when Shiro doesn’t, trying to overcome the dread of disappointment. Shiro shifts to better welcome him into his space.

“Okay,” Shiro says. His prosthetic wraps around Keith in a loose hold, and that’s nice. When Keith meets the man’s eyes again he’s close, certainly close enough to kiss.

The nerves are fizzling in the back of Keith’s head. Fear. Anticipation. Desire. Dread. He takes a breath and then another. Then he puts a hand on Shiro’s chest, the other touching his shoulder to steady himself.

The touching is not terribly new between them, but it has a new weight like this. Shiro is just looking at him, letting Keith take his time. With anyone else this would be horrible. The expectation would be crushing, and Keith would have likely already cut and run. But this isn’t anyone else, this is Shiro.

One of Keith’s hands hooks around Shiro’s neck and draws him down ever so slightly. Shiro comes easily, moving just enough to put himself on offer, waiting for Keith to choose what happens.

The want rises in Keith, sharp and cruel. He wants so much for this to be what it is in his head. He knows he can’t make himself different, that if he doesn’t feel it, he doesn’t feel it, but that stubborn place inside him still wants to.

The hand on Shiro’s chest curls into his shirt, and beneath Keith’s palm he can feel the regular beat of Shiro’s heart. It’s now or never, and he wants it to be now. He wants it to be good now and for always.

Keith leans in and presses his lips to Shiro’s cheek.

It’s barely anything, just a press of skin to skin, but Keith still feels a frisson of fear-excitement at his own daring. It’s not the big thing, but a step. A promise to try. There’s a curl at the edges of Shiro’s mouth, patient and fond.

 _Stars_ , Keith loves him.

The next kiss is a little closer, but still to Shiro’s cheek. He doesn’t let himself waver, doesn’t let himself start spiraling inside his head. He needs to be here, present.

When Keith pulls back, Shiro turns his own head.

“Can I?”

“Yeah,” Keith says. It feels, in some way, the same to agreeing to go over a cliff’s edge or into a wormhole with Shiro. It’s scary, and with no way of knowing how they will land, but existing on the belief in this man. Keith’s never wanted to live a different way.

Shiro leans in and presses his lips to Keith’s cheek. It’s innocent really, but Keith’s heart still thumps loudly at it.

He _wants_.

“I—“

Shiro’s so close, his eyes taking up nearly all of Keith’s vision. “You can,” he says.

Keith’s hand slides up to cup his jaw. For a moment he just looks at Shiro, at his wonderful, adoring face. He reminds himself that no matter what, Shiro loves him. No matter what, they’re going to be okay.

Keith leans in and kisses him.

And it’s… not bad. It’s not like sparks or butterflies, but it’s not bad. In all honestly it feels the same as kissing his cheek. Warm, soft. _Shiro_. He pulls back and opens his eyes, Shiro is looking at him.

“Okay?”

Keith’s heart is still beating too quickly, but he is okay. He isn’t disgusted.

That’s kind of marvelous in itself.

“Yeah.”

Shiro smiles at him, his prosthetic reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind Keith’s ear.

“Can I…?” Keith asks.

“Of course.”

Keith leans in again, but remember to tilt his head this time. He lets it be more than just a peck, lets himself press his lips more to Shiro’s.

And that’s—

 _Something_.

Warmth. Pleasure. He pulls back just enough to lick his lips and then kisses Shiro again.

The something _shifts_. It’s a soft slide, like sand across smooth stone, spilling through him by gentle wind. It runs across his nerves, not enough to be frightening, but enough to catch his attention.

Enough to make him want to chase it. It piques his curiosity.

The next kiss comes with Shiro’s fingers sliding up into Keith’s scalp, carding through his hair. The sensation that follows both is _nice_. It’s like spindle silk webs of pleasure that sink in, relaxing the stiffened shoulders he wasn’t aware he was carrying.

“Still okay?” Shiro whispers when they part.

“Yeah.”

“And not bad?”

“No, it’s…” the words fail him. Keith doesn’t know how to explain it, how to summarize just how stunning a realization this quickly becomming. It’s such a small thing, but he feels it like a plate shift beneath his feet. Everything inside him is unsteady, utterly flummoxing.

He realizes now how certain he’d been that this wasn’t something he would ever have. How ready he’d been to go his whole life _without_ because there had never been anyone who made him feel like—

Except Shiro. The utter impossibleness of him is still catching Keith off guard, even so many years into their friendship.

“Can I?” Shiro asks.

Keith doesn’t even bother to answer, just tugs with the hand still in Shiro’s shirt.

Shiro comes easy as anything. He kisses Keith once, then twice, both slow and lingering. The moment spreads out syrupy sweet across them. Shiro’s other arms wraps around Keith’s middle to hold him and—

The breath shudders out of Keith when they part. He opens his eyes to see Shiro.

“ _Oh_.”

Keith presses back in, copying Shiro for half a dozen more honeyed kisses. They’re still tentative, a little off center, but even that Keith _likes_. It’s all imperfect things he’s never done with anyone else, but it feels all the better for it. Each one seems to do something more inside him, but there aren’t words for what that is. There’s a building to it, a wanting, but it’s not the same as sex. It’s something completely foreign. It’s as if he’s young again, new to people and just finding his way, experiencing the novelty of touch for the first time.

Strange, so strange.

And wonderful.

When he pulls back Shiro is smiling. Keith can’t help himself and leans in to kiss the corner of his mouth. In return Shiro turns his head and peppers a few kisses across Keith’s cheek.

Irrationally Keith feels a blush rise, and he turns away. Still he knows he must be smiling because the arm around him tightens fondly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look shy.”

Keith huffs at that, which only makes Shiro smile wider. His smile lines are on full display now, and it only makes him more handsome.

“Are you going to be insufferable after this?”

Shiro laughs. “What, me? I would never.”

“Uh huh.”

Keith goes to playfully shove him away, but Shiro at once pulls him in and delivers a careful kiss to his lips. The ease with which he does it makes something pulse through Keith. He melts back into Shiro and tilts his head to kiss him again.

It’s one kiss and then another, then another. Nothing intense or even open mouthed, but they fold into each other and Keith can’t seem to pull away. The sensation of Shiro’s lips against his is addicting. Every kiss is a caress of warm affection greater than the last. They wash over him like a gentle incoming tide, and he _wants_ —

When they part to breathe Keith feels dazed. He opens his eyes and Shiro is looking at him, dark-eyed.

“I love you,” he says.

Keith licks his lips. It takes a moment to call language back to himself.

“I love you,” he says when it returns. His eyes drop down to Shiro’s mouth. He wants… more.

“Feeling good?”

“Yeah.” Keith says. “Really… good.” A budding thought comes to him then, and Keith doesn’t have the will to fight it. “Could we, um. Lie down?”

“Sure.” Shiro backs off, but already Keith is standing up.

He feels too embarrassed to say more, but Shiro’s hand automatically finds his. Keith pulls Shiro up and leads him to the bedroom. The motion lights come on for them automatically, dim for the hour of evening. Keith turns to face him just before the bed.

“Is this okay?”

The hand in his squeezes. “Whatever you want.”

Keith crawls up into the bed, pushing aside the messy comforter.

“What do _you_ want?”

Shiro follows him in. When they lie down it’s on their sides facing each other, still fully dressed. Shiro looks immediately softer like this, face pressed into the pillow and the front tuft of hair falling the wrong way.

“I already have everything I could ever want.”

“Ugh!” Keith moans, turning his own face into the pillow. “You can’t say stuff like that.”

It’s muffled, but he knows from the laugh that Shiro understands him. A hand finds his in the sheets and draws it out. There’s a kiss pressed to the back of his hand.

“And why not? It’s true.”

Keith peeks an eye out to look at him. “Insufferable.”

“Mm, maybe. But that’s just because I’m a very, very lucky man.”

Keith groans and then shifts to draw Shiro in. “Shiro!”

There’s an attractive curve to the man’s lips as Keith pulls him into a kiss.

“What baby?” Shiro says against his mouth. “Don’t like to hear about how you’re the light of my li—“

Keith kisses him to cut him off. It starts off a little too rushed, a little too forceful, but quickly softens. His hand craws up to Shiro’s shoulder as Shiro’s arm wraps around his waist.

The mood shifts much faster than it had on the couch. By the fifth kiss they’re barely parting, staying close to share breathes and warmth. It pours back and forth between them in a velvet crush. It’s decadent, indulgent, and has Keith’s heart speeding up even as the rest of him settles.

Then Shiro tilts his head and catches Keith’s bottom lip. There’s the smallest tug, and it sends a spiral of sensation back through Keith. A breath gusts out from him, hand curling against Shiro’s neck. For the next kiss Keith tries the same, catching Shiro’s bottom lip.

It’s thrilling to do, thrilling to receive. They part just enough to breathe and then come back together for a handful of simpler kisses. Those still stoke that wanting thing inside Keith, and he doesn’t understand what it is, what he should do about it. Couldn’t explain it even if he wanted to.

Shiro’s hand runs up his side, slow and careful. They’re nearly drawn front to front now, but it’s not _enough_. Keith shifts, and when his knee bumps Shiro’s the man moves to allow him to slot his leg between. It brings them almost hip to hip, with just enough space left to preserve modesty.

Which is well enough. Keith doesn’t want to get… distracted by other things. He feels absolutely riveted by kissing Shiro, and everything else can come later.

Much later.

They kiss, trading simple ones, then occasionally cheek kisses and nibbling ones. Once their noses bump, and Shiro takes the opportunity to kiss him there before rubbing their noses together.

It’s so silly and easy and wonderful that Keith doesn’t know how to handle it. He keeps smiling between kisses like an absolutely besotted fool.

But Shiro is here, close and alive and all his, so maybe that’s okay.

They part again to breathe, and Shiro tilts to touch their foreheads together. Keith’s cheeks are getting sore from smiling, but when he opens his eyes there’s Shiro—

Keith’s hand moves up his jaw, across the stubble, and to Shiro’s ear. He traces the whorl shape with care, and follow his hairline up, touching the short buzzed hair with the pad of his fingers. He ends up at Shiro’s brow, then runs his fingers carefully to the white and black dappled eyelashes Shiro now has. They’re not terribly noticeable from a distance, but this close the white spots really stand out. They’re another sign of just what Shiro’s been through, and Keith feels infinitely lucky to know them intimately now.

At the edge of his eye are the shadows of the crow’s feet from when he smiles. Keith smoothes over the thin skin, imagining a distant future where they’re deep and etched into Shiro’s face. It’s still so new to consider all the life before them, so inexplicable to consider the decades they’ll now get.

Especially for Shiro.

Keith traces down next, over Shiro’s cheek and to his mouth. He lines the shape of those lips, and when his forefinger passes over the rise of them, Shiro kisses his fingertip.

Keith’s hand drops away, and he leans back in for another kiss. Their lips touch, brush. Their noses bump. The next kiss puts them perfectly in line, and Keith could sigh from the _something_ that throbs in him. He kisses Shiro and then Shiro returns those kisses with care. It’s too warm between them, but Keith stays close. He likes feeling all the points where they’re touching, all of Shiro’s skin against his even with layers of clothing between them.

It’s not for tonight, but the idea of doing this bare, skin to skin, is heady. They both have too many years of going without the simple pleasure of touch, and now Keith can’t wait curl up in Shiro and never let go. He could spend hours like that, and maybe will in the future. They have a lot of time to make up for.

The kisses build and build until Keith is subconsciously tugging, gently kneading like a kitten would at Shiro. He wants him closer, wants the wordless _more_ that he can’t seem to understand.

When he gasps to get a breathe he’s forgotten to take, Shiro’s lips part.

The following kiss comes with a lick of tongue, a wet flicker of sensation across Keith’s top lip. A sound escapes him, full of cottony desire. He leans in and returns it.

For the briefest moment there’s the touching of tongues. It’s—

Keith’s hated it before. Loathed really, the disgusting exchange of spit with strangers.

But this isn’t that. It’s so, so far from that. His heart trips over itself, and he has to pull back just to right himself.

Shiro’s eyes open to meet his, a question present there. A check in. Keith smiles at him, then leans in to kiss him again.

Time must slip them by while they share kisses back and forth, but Keith’s hardly aware. He’s only aware of this bed, of Shiro, of the heat and delicate wonder between them. Most of the kisses are simple things, but there’s a power in them that makes Keith dizzy nonetheless.

Or maybe it’s just Shiro.

They share a few more sucking ones, biting ones, and a few where Keith opens his mouth just to try again. He tries over and over just to see if the novelty will fade into disinterest.

But it doesn’t.

Even after dozens of kisses, Keith finds himself just as enraptured. It’s like Shiro’s cast a spell over him and he’s stuck orbiting the gravity of this star. There’s no part of him that even wants to be cut free, he wants to be consumed by the gravity of this man. Keith’s felt the vastness of space, he’s seen a singularity and the inside of a worm hole, and this is completely different. It’s a rewriting of vastness from a black hole gape of loss to an infinity of possibility. 

Keith’s hands wander over Shiro’s body, across shoulders and down arms and his back. He touches him to make him real, to imprint the feel of him, warm-blooded and alive into the pads of Keith’s fingers. He wants to know him as well as he knows himself.

Shiro maps him likewise, drawing swirls and what seem like letters across the fabric of his shirt. Keith tries for a moment to determine what the letters could be, but it’s too difficult and distracting. If Shiro wants to tell him something, then he will. Otherwise he may keep any secrets he wishes to scrawl into Keith’s skin.

In this way they push and pull at each other. It’s an exploration of closeness, the sensation of movement and friction. It’s not leading to anything but itself, and that’s perfect for Keith. He imagines that he should get sore of sick from the kissing, that something in him should want to stop, but nothing rises above that want. It feels good, so good like this. It’s hard to believe such a simple thing could make him feel this way.

He thinks, a little foolishly, that he finally understands what the love stories are on about with this. For a long time Keith’s known love, loyalty, and devotion. He’s gone to the end of the universe for this man, he’s well acquainted with the feeling and shape of his love for Shiro.

But he’s never done this. The want has filled his chest, taken up all the space inside him with something he has no name for. The kisses are as soothing as they are arresting. He’s addicted to the touch, to the way Shiro makes him feel.

Kissing Shiro is a revelation, a breathtaking venture that he never wants to end.

There’s a… reversal of mourning happening. It’s cracked open inside Keith’s chest and gone spilling up to the surface of him. This thing Keith thought he would never have, now he does. He does and it’s shown itself here and now, in the most important of place with the most important of persons.

His love for Shiro burns through him so incandescent he’s certain it must look like an actual star in his chest. His claws dig in, and the next kiss he gives to Shiro is harder, desperate to convey this thing he will never be able to articulate.

Shiro’s return kiss is barely a caress of lips. He brushes his mouth across Keith’s, an answer of _yes, I know._

Keith feels the emotion of it burn the corner of his eyes.

Shiro’s hand cups his jaw, thumbing along the crest of his cheek. He tilts Keith just a little, bumping playfully at his nose and then kissing him. Keith almost shivers at the way it buzzes through him. Such a little thing, but he has no guards left. For the first time maybe he is bare, truly bare.

Maybe that’s what the wanting has always been, the wanting of closer and closer. Of desiring to reach into someone glowing heart and wrap a hand around the fire there without getting burned. Letting, in turn, that person touch him the same. Being warmed by a heat that should, by all logic, burn them into ash.

Keith doesn’t feel ruined though. He feels whole and steady and effervescent. He feels remade.

“Love is not a good enough word,” Keith whispers to Shiro when they part to breathe.

“Hm?”

“There should be better words. Better ways to… describe.”

“Describe what?”

Keith’s hand scritches gently at Shiro’s undercut. “You. The way I feel about you.”

Shiro looks at him, a steady presence that Keith doesn’t shy away from.

“I think you’ve done well doing so without the words.” Shiro scoops up one of Keith’s hands and turns it to drop a kiss on the back of his knuckles.

Keith could argue that for a plethora of reasons, but this is not the place for it. “Maybe,” he says instead. “But it still falls short to the way it feels in here.”

He draws their intertwined to himself and presses them over his own heart. Shiro doesn’t speak, but nods, solemn and heartfelt.

“I— I like kissing you,” Keith says after a beat of silence. It’s barely a breath, but they’re so close that he knows Shiro will hear him.

“I like kissing you,” Shiro whispers back.

They look at each other, smiling and soft-eyed and a little silly. Keith can’t believe he’s this lucky. Shiro releases his hand and draws him that bit closer to squeeze him tight in a hug.

“And everything else we’ll figure out together,” Shiro says into his hair, “Just like always.”

Keith buries his face into Shiro’s neck, feeling those tears rise again.

He likes the sound of that.

 _Always_.

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes you have to write the softe fic you may or may not personally relate to. Ahem.
> 
> I'm @an_aphorism on twitter.


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